Marriage: In All Its Splendor
by reluctantreader
Summary: Jasper's a real man with real needs and a wife that doesn't put up with his bull. What would Jasper Whitlock be like if he were a regular, every day kind of guy? - the end result of e-mail drabble with pbroken - AU/AH  OOC
1. Kardashians and Mudbutt

**Author's Note**: Sooooo pbroken and I had a little discussion about our significant others trying to write for us. Moral of the story is, boys have hilarious ideas for stories and what they constitute as acceptable smut. After poking a little fun, pbroken wrote me a hilarious one-shot based off of something my boyfriend wrote for me. She thought it's be funny to have "Real Life FanFiction" with more realistic (or unrealistic) male characters so I ended up sending her a response. So since this is the only thing I've ever completed, so far, I just had to post it. It's COMPLETELY OOC, but I hope you find as much laughter in it as we did.

**DISCLAIMER:** Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. She'd probably shot me in the head if she ever saw this so no copyright infringement is intended.

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JPOV

Waking up before the ending of my amazing Kim Kardashian fantasy left me rock hard and pissed off. Unable to figure out what the fuck woke me up in the first place, I rolled over in bed to see my wife, Alice. She was still asleep, but somehow she was already pissing me off. Just watching at how peaceful she slept made me want to smack a bitch.

Instead, I decided to let her join me in my misery. Sure, it would be totally fucked up to wake her, but at the very least I'd get a blow job out of it. I could be a charismatic fucker when I needed to be.

"AYE, ALICE!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "WAKE THE FUCK UP ALREADY!"

She didn't move. I knew the bitch heard me, too. I guess I really was going to have to smack a bitch! With a resounding 'Pop' I back-handed the shit out of her ass through the thin material of the bed sheet.

"Owe, Jazz! What the fuck?" She grumbled sleepily.

"Watch that tongue when you speak to me, girl." She better know who she's fucking talking to. I run this shit and I demand respect.

I didn't even let her try to ask questions as I pressed my body to hers, I just wanted to pick up where my dream had left off. Alice was no Kim Kardashian, but she was cute. Annoying as fuck, but cute. Plus she could take the dick and that's all that really mattered anyway. That and that she looked good doing it. Plus she cooks, too. Yea, so maybe she is a good catch. I needed to show her I appreciated her...just a bit.

My hands traveled down her body as my mouth attacked her neck. Alice seemed to be struggling against me a bit, but I'd let her know that I would think about letting her get off. My left hand grasped her breast tightly, running my fingernails over her puckered nipples. I let my right hand continue down until I could slip two fingers into her juicy pussy. Fuck! She was always so tight and wet, just like I liked it.

I was moaning and groaning and going crazy, not even caring if she was into it. She wasn't.

"What the hell are you doing Jasper?" She had the nerve to sound annoyed. "It's past three in the morning!" I think she fake yawned at the end for emphasis.

"Don't worry baby, daddy's gunna take care of you," I lied smoothly while still going to town all over her body. She seemed to realize that it was my way or the highway and her body went completely limp. I peeked up at her face and just barely caught her rolling her eyes at me. Whatever, if she didn't care about me getting her off then it was her loss. Besides, she needed to earn that shit and she wasn't helping her case.

High on my victory, I removed my hand from her pussy. I was tempted to lick my fingers, but I didn't know if morning breath applied for vag as well. Nothing's worse than musky cunt. That's the main reason I didn't allow her to work out anymore. She would come home from the gym looking all sweaty and tasty and I'd get a whiff and almost pass out. Scientist say there's pheromones and all that other bullshit, but obviously they're bat-shit crazy; it's just stank.

I wiped my fingers off on her moo-moo and I swear I heard her sigh. Didn't matter to me though, it's not like she wore any of that fuck-hot Victoria's Secret stuff after we got married. Selfish bitch. It was too fucking expensive anyway and my girl didn't need another reason to go shopping. She'd buy me out of house and home if I didn't put a limit on her credit cards. But I digress.

With the reflexes of a cheetah, I mounted her, flipping her onto her stomach in the process. If she didn't want to be an active participant, I'd do what I wanted. I'd do what I wanted anyway, but I would have asked first. Maybe.

I pulled my boxers down as I rose up on my knees and slammed into her without pause. Alice screamed out swatting at my thighs in obvious anger.

"Jasper Lee Whitlock, I swear to God, if you even think about sticking that in my ass...you'll regret it," she warned. I hadn't even considered it, but now...I wonder... "Don't even think it," she reiterated.

"Fine," I shrugged as I started pumping in and out, in and out. Her pussy was always the best. She was so tight and so fucking warm.

"Oh, shit, Alice. So good," I huffed through panting breaths, kneading her ass with my palms. I was already a little winded - from being half asleep of course – so I wrapped my arms around her middle and hugged her back to my chest.

She was starting to get into it, letting out moans and even rocking back a bit to keep pace with me. With her doing some of the work it allowed me to rear back up and grasp onto her hips. The rhythm was coming together nicely and I couldn't help the grunts echoing around the dark room, spurring me on further as they mingled with her soft voice. I used one of my hands to tangle into her short, black hair, pulling her head backward causing her to shriek in a painful pleasure.

"Fuck baby, that's it!" I encouraged as I felt her walls start to tighten around my throbbing cock. I released my hand from her hip and pulled tighter on her hair as I smacked her ass with an open palm.

"Oh, fuck!" bellowed from the both of us as the sting on her ass cheek echoed the one in my hand. It was enough to send me plummeting over the edge, pumping erratically until I was spurting deep inside of her body.

"Thanks, baby," I sighed out as I rolled from on top of her to my side of the bed, leaving Alice on all four gaping at me like a fish.

"Close your mouth honey or you'll catch flies," I chuckled as I snuggled into my slightly cool pillow, reeling from the amazing midnight fuck.

Alice grumbled as she repositioned herself in the bed, yanking most of the covers from me. It didn't matter, I got mine and now it was on to sleepy town. It wasn't my fault she was left wanting. She could take care of it herself in the morning if it was so important.

That night I dreamt of pancakes and cheesy scrambled eggs. I thought I was still dreaming when the smells ceased to evaporate when I opened my eyes. Alice served me a plate and a giant cup of coffee as I walked into the kitchen to investigate. My girl knew the way to my heart.

"Morning beautiful!" fell from my lips after giving her a 'good morning' kiss on the cheek. I took a swig of my coffee and reached for the paper. I was on my second plate before I noticed Alice was still smiling at me without eating any breakfast herself.

"Everything alright, darlin'? Why aren't you eating?" I asked her not even taking my eyes off the sports column.

"Well, I don't want to have the shits, so I'll get something later." Her voice was sickeningly sweet.

I had no fucking idea what she was going on about, but I didn't like what I think she was implying. My confusion must have shown on my face clear as day because she elaborated as she collected her things for her day.

"There's ex-lax in all your food, fucker, so I hope you enjoy 'getting yours' the next time you want to dream about motherfuckin' Kim Kardashian and not even let me get off. I called you out of work so enjoy your day on the toilet," she said as she whirled through the room and towards the front door. "Tootles!" she called out before slamming the door behind her.

I felt my stomach rumble after not even two minutes as I stared at the empty space where my bitch of a wife was once standing.

Annoying as fuck, but cute.

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**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed. all flames and loves acceptable =)

~Tay


	2. The Minx and the Mountain Lion

**A/N:** Sooooooooooooo this just sort of happened. I guess my mind finally cut the shit with the whole writer's block thing. It's funny how I can never seem to finish the stories I try my damnedest to write, but constantly hammer out things that are of no consequence. This is really just some bullshitting about poking fun at the way boy write and think. There's a lot of overzealous swearing and a lot of "Bitch" talk, but please don't get me wrong. It's all just hilarious-ness =)

Enjoy

**DISCLAIMER: **Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. Jasper would never be this much of a regular man in her fantasy world. I'm just a bit more realistic, yet over the top.

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JPOV

How?

I mean seriously. How could someone spend so much fucking money? And in one goddamned store? I really don't get it. I, Jasper Whitlock, cannot even fathom how anyone could toss away that kind of money. It _is_ my wife Alice we're talking about, but how in the fuck could she spend so much? Thirty-two hundred dollars. In one store. Unless that bitch vajazzed her delicious pussy then coated it in gold, I just can't see spending that kind of dough.

I look over my credit card statement for the billionth time. It's one thing to spend that amount over a month's time – maybe even a week – but in only one day? And in only one store? Holy hell, she was going to die. I was going to go to jail for murdering my wife. It wouldn't even be a crime of passion. The legal system didn't have a verdict heavy enough to punish all the things I was going to do to her.

The bitch got me back for my whole "Kardashian" thing, but this? This was over the top. If I wasn't so pissed off I'd probably be impressed that she'd somehow managed to supersede the spending limit I had placed on her card. But this wasn't the time to be awed – oh no – this was a time to be down right pissed off.

I had to think of something. I had to get back at her for this. She's a crafty little minx, I'll give her that much. Here I thought I was lucky enough to get away with a single punishment with the whole "mudbutt" thing. Alice is smart as a fucking whip. I'd forgotten how vengeful she could be. Yes, I had to get her back for this one, indeed.

I tucked away my credit card statement and made a mental note to see if I could find a way to garnish her wages over at the salon she worked. Alice was all about hair and clothes and make-up; all that girly shit. It was probably one of her co-workers or a customer that gave her the idea to try to tap me out. I mean, granted, what's mine is hers and blah, blah, blah. I was the one that was dumb enough to marry the girl knowing about her incessant shopping.

Now don't get me wrong, I motherfuckin' love my wife. She's my everything; the air that I breathe and all that other romantic bullshit. But this is the way we work. We're constantly getting over on the other one. It's like a love/hate game that we play, with neither one holding the reins as king for more than a few days or so. But my midnight fuckery was over a month ago and I had no idea she'd been sitting on this little dime for so long. Yea, I was going to get her goat real good.

I sat and stewed in the kitchen all day, plotting and waiting for her to bring her ass home. Of course, by the time she walked in right after twilight, I hadn't thought of any good comebacks. I wasn't sure whether to bring up the bill right away or to tactfully spring it on her once I had a game plan.

Alice breezed into the house as if she didn't have a care in the world. Fuck that! I don't like people playing with my money! And I'd be a fucking liar if I didn't say I had some issues with controlling my temper.

"ALICE! BRING YOUR ASS IN HERE NOW!" I bellowed out at top volume though she was merely a room away. I swear to God I heard her sigh as she kicked off her pumps and padded into the kitchen. I bet she bought those fucking shoes with the credit card too. I hope they came with a receipt.

"Yes," she asked, dragging out the 's' and rolling her eyes once she was standing in front of me. She even had the nerve to have her arms crossed like some kind of petulant teenager about to ignore her scolding parents. I wasn't having it.

"What the fuck?" was all I needed to say. She knew she'd done wrong.

She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes again like I was the dumb fucker who spent all that money. "What are you talking about?"

"What am I…" Was she serious? "Are you serious? What am I talking about? Thirty-two hundred dollars, Alice? Are you fucking kidding me right now? What the fuck could you possibly need that costs that kind of money?" She had to be joking me!

"Jazzy," she said my name in the way that gets her anything she wants. She even pouted a little, but I wasn't in the mood for that. "Everything I got was on sale. It was all a steal, honest!"

"Well, then, maybe your ass should have stolen it 'cause it's sure as shit going back to the store!" I never have – and never will – hit a woman in all my life, but I swear to God, now I can see why some fuckers do. Nah, I take that shit back. But I could pinch her right now. Fuck that! I'm totally pinching her right now.

"Owe, Jazz! What the hell?" she complained rubbing her arm and giving me the puppy eyes. She was so sexy when she pouted. Damn her!

"I hope it hurt, too!"

Damn it, I can't believe she was working me over. I could feel myself calming down and I know she could sense it too. She always knew how to get me riled up or as soft as a marshmallow. But not today! I refuse to let that shit happen!

"You're taking it back, all of it. I don't care if it was on sale and it's non-refundable. You're collecting it up and taking it back, and that's final."

"Fine," she huffed indignantly and for a split second, I was completely taken aback. I mean, did I seriously just win an argument about clothes with Alice? With Mary Alice Brandon-Whitlock? The very same Mary Alice Brandon-Whitlock whom was banned from Bloomingdale's in all fifty states for beating the shit out of a 56 year old woman over a pair of Jimmy Cho's? I don't fucking know who this Jimmy-guy is, but it was enough for my wife to be hauled off to jail after biting the store owner and kicking a security guard in the jewels for trying to pry the shoes from her clenched fist.

But my victory was short lived as suddenly my wife started pealing off her clothes, layer by layer until she was standing in front of me with nothing more than a fuck-me black and baby blue lace bra and panty set. This is the shit I'm talking about right here! This is the shit she used to wear before we were married! Fuck, she looked so good and her nipples were just aching to be put in my mouth. My cock was straining so hard in my jeans, I swear it was about to grow arms and rip the zipper down itself.

Although royally confused as to why my wife was standing in front of me in nothing but some barely-there underwear that was about to end up on the floor, my dick overrode my brain and was now at the controls of my body. I squeezed a handful of tit and was rewarded by Alice's head flying back and a moan worthy of porn escaping her throat. Jesus, she was so fucking hot!

Fuck this! Fuck all of this that isn't being covered in my body right now! I scooped her up to take her somewhere – anywhere that wasn't my kitchen. My kitchen was too bitchen to be defiled the way I was going to consume my wife right now.

Alice must have felt my indecision as she blurted out "couch" and continued moaning as I threw her over my shoulder and spanked her ass to keep the mood up. She was a bad, bad girl.

I unceremoniously tossed her on her back into the couch and sprang on top of her like a mountain lion. Yea, my sexual prowess is big cat-like in nature. I'm a predator, what can I say? My hands clawed at my own clothing, sprawling it across the room before shredded the remaining lace that kept me from my wife's promised land.

First, I was sucking on one tit. Then, I was sucking on the other tit. Then, I was sucking on her neck. I finally got tired of sucking and started licking. Everywhere. Neck, ear, collarbone, forearm – I didn't give a shit, as long as I could taste her. And she tasted so fucking fantastic. It put me right in the mood for fantastic fucking! Fuck, I'm awesome.

Although she really didn't deserve to get off, I learned my lesson. And if three thousand dollar credit card bills were what I had to pay, then I wasn't going to fuck this up again, even if it was funny as hell at the time.

I set out to make sure Alice was getting her rocks off. Judging from all the moaning and sighing and the amount of times she was screaming my name, I'm guessing it was going pretty well. I slipped two fingers in that tight pussy and it did not disappoint.

"Jesus Christ, Alice. You're always – oh God! – so fucking wet. I can't –" I couldn't even find the words to describe how heavenly she felt. It was so good.

I couldn't stand it anymore; I had to be inside of her, right the fuck now. This time, I made sure to inch my way in, marveling at the perfection that was the fit of my dick in her marvelous pussy. "Like a glove" were the only words to come to mind, but I didn't want to think about Jim Carrey right now. My super hot fuck-me wife wanted me to do just that - fuck her - so I would oblige.

There was panting and moaning and I couldn't have stopped if I tried, it felt so good. Alice's manicured nails ran down my back and I swear I felt her clenching already, but I knew there was no way she could be so close, we'd only just started. Still, I felt her legs shaking as she hooked her heels into my ass cheeks and her breaths were becoming shorter and more labored. What the hell? I mean, I know I'm the shit and everything, but we couldn't have been going at it for more than a few minutes. I was trying to draw this shit out; I had a lot of built up tension floating around.

"Oh please, Jazz. Please," Alice called in desperation.

I guess I hadn't really gotten her off in a while so maybe she was just as pent up as I was. I guess I'll be the good guy. I can take care of her before breaking out my o-face. It shouldn't be too long anyway, she was so warm and so tight. My fingers started lazily circling her clit, trying to stall for time so we could come together, but she wasn't having that.

"Jasper, please! Harder, baby. You make me so hot! I need to come, baby, please." She pleaded again, this time looking directly into my eyes. I could see the desperation there, but there was also something else I couldn't quite figure out. I let it go, though; she probably just really needed the release.

With that, I began rubbing her clit furiously with my thumb while slamming into her as hard as I could from my cramped position on the couch. Moments later she was screaming a mantra, thanking me and God for this amazing-ness. I couldn't stop the smile spreading since I knew it was all me who was making this happen.

Alice's sexy as fuck come face was almost enough to send me over the edge of ecstasy. I just needed to try to get a little deeper. Maybe if I just lift her leg…just a little bit…

Suddenly, mid-stroke, I was on the floor. Completely fucking bewildered I tried to shake my head. What the fuck? My hips we still slightly thrusting, but instead of the warm delicious-ness that was my wife's wet pussy, I was met by nothing by cold air. I looked up to the couch to see my wife sitting up and agilely hopping over the back of the couch towards the kitchen.

"What the fuck?" I asked to myself and to no one simultaneously. Alice simply starting redressing, sans tattered undergarments.

"What the fuck, Alice?" I tried again. Maybe if I said a name an explanation would magically appear as to why I'm not balls deep in pussy right now.

"Close your mouth honey, you'll attract flies" Alice quoted me from over a month prior. The bitch even chuckled at me as she walked down the hallway and closed the bedroom door – leaving me hard, naked, and spread eagle on the living room floor.

Oh, she's a crafty little minx, I'll give her that much.

I could suddenly hear her guffawing loudly from the bedroom. I forgot how vindictive she could be. Bitch was going to get.

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**A/N: **Alice got one over on ol' Jazzy-poo once again, it seems.

Loves, flames, they're all the sames.

~Tay


	3. Dismemberment and Gangbangs

**Author's Note**: Hello again all! I just thought of this the other day and shelled it out quickly. This has nothing to do with the impending American holiday, but I thought you all would like a treat since some of us (mostly me) won't have computer access for a few day. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! And if you're not American, than Happy Regular-kind-of-day-that-makes-people-want-to-give-you-things-for-no-reason!

**Disclaimer: **Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. Jasper could never be this awesome in her world. No copyright infringement is intended.

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JPOV

I don't give two flying fucks that my wife is fuck-hot and takes the dick like a pro. She's the biggest bitch in all existence and I need to put a hurtin' on her. There should be a law against using awesome dick sucking abilities as a means of exploitation. I should have fucking known that that blowjob would cost me.

Apparently there's no such thing as free head.

And the world is a shittier place because of it.

Alice, the stupid bitch of a wife in question, is a total con artist. I need to teach her a lesson. But because I'm sitting here at a fucking mini-desk – surrounded by snot nosed brats, mind you – it isn't exactly the time to plot. Don't get me wrong; it would be the most appropriate time to zone out while I'm "contributing to society," but the fucking decrepit shrew of a kindergarten teacher told me to stop muttering and swearing. Fuckin', Aye! I should have paid more attention to what the fuck Alice was muttering when she was slobbing my knob.

Seriously? This bitch was kidding me!

My fuck-awesomeness should be gift wrapped and sold in stores everywhere. That'd be a better way to "contribute to society" than what the fuck she had in mind. Me, Jasper Lee Whitlock: The Incredible, playing with shit machines at a coloring station…for two fucking hours! And somehow I agreed to this because I was getting me junk polished. Well fuck that! Not anymore! I refuse to be deceived by the ever elusive free cock swallow. I fucking swear I'm going to fuck Alice's shit up so hard for this shit. Just because she's on a community service kick doesn't mean I have to suffer with this bullshit!

And the worst fucking part is? That bitch isn't even in here with me! Oh, hell no! She got lucky and got to hangout with the fucking high school kids and I got stuck with crumb catchers. Totally fucking lame! I swear she's trying to drop hints, but oh, hell nah! I fucking hate kids. If she wants kids, she can go sit on a different pole 'cause it ain't happening. Selfish fucking bitch. I really have to teach her a lesson. I have to think of something.

The Crypt Keeper – a.k.a. Mrs. Aroli: The Brat Tamer – shushes me and I've never wanted to smack a bitch upside the head so bad, but I go back to coloring at the group table next to all the bed wetters anyway. My coloring is turning out to be a very graphic picture of Alice getting gangbanged while I'm cutting up her credit cards in the background and I'm starting to feel a little bit better.

…until one of the devil spawn nudges me.

SHIT!

"Uh, yea?" I ask the sticky mini person because maybe if I see what it wants it'll leave me alone faster. I notice that the walking germ is a little blonde haired girl with huge, round eyes and the color is so blue that it almost looks like frosted glass. It's kind of freaky and kind of pretty at the same time. But if you start to call ickys pretty or cute the next time you drink the water, you'll be pregnant. That's just scientific fact.

"You're hogging all the red," the tiny bitch says in a voice that is surprisingly non-whiny. I thought little kids had their own language, but apparently they speak English as well. Maybe they aren't so bad after all.

I hand over the red crayon and glance at the little girl's picture. It's startlingly similar to mine, but it's a brown haired boy being ripped apart at all appendages while a little blonde girl in the background plays with a rocket ship. Children are Satan reincarnated. This little girl has confirmed it. But as fucking creepy as the whole "future psycho killer" thing she has going on is, she's making me feel better because her coloring confirms that there are assholes everywhere and no matter how old you are or if you shit in a diaper, people can piss you the fuck off.

"Nice," I say genuinely because despite the gross content, it's a very well done picture. Maybe kindergartners aren't as single celled as I thought. "Who is it supposed to be? And what'd he do, anyway?" I ask because I really want to know who deserved dismemberment and why.

The girl seems to growl and I swear she's seconds from snapping the crayon in half. It's kind of hilarious to look at because it's like a cute fuckin' kitten about to pounce on your toes. The kid probably stole her juice box or something.

"It's Alec," she all but hisses. "The booger face says that girls can't play with spaceships. He's a dummy and has poop breath."

I laugh. I think I like this little kid.

And because she is kind of awesome and kind of freaky, I ask her name.

"I'm Jane. Who are you?"

"I'm Jasper"

"That's a weird name," she rolls her eyes for emphasis. I think I like her a little less.

"What are you doing here anyway? Aren't you too big to be coloring?" she continues and I feel like rolling my eyes. 'Bitch' must be contagious.

"Yea, I am." And since I can't help but to throw Alice to the wolves I continue with, "but my bitch of a wife says I have to be here."

I'm instantly shushed and given the stink eye from Mrs. Aroli: Hag from Hell. I don't know what the fuck I did wrong so I ignore her. Jane seems to think the same thing because she doesn't even look in the teacher's direction. Instead, she's studying my picture in great detail and I'm not sure if little kids are supposed to know what gangbangs are. I cover the picture with both hands, just in case.

Jane looks unimpressed, bored even.

"If you really want to get back at her, you should do what my dad does," she states while adding more red blood to her picture.

My curiosity is instantly peeked. I love revenge and I've heard that little kids can be cruel. This is turning out to be a very informative day.

"And what does your dad do?" I'm almost giddy with anticipation.

"Gives her shoes to the dog to chew on."

Oh shit!

This is pure gold! I fucking love kindergarten! I want to fist bump and hug this little sticky thing, but I know that as soon as I do, Chris Hansen is going to pop out and offer me a glass of water. Instead I offer a high five and a smile and she readily accepts by slapping her hand to mine.

"Shit!" I shout and flip off the teacher when she glares. "We don't have a fucking dog."

"Then get one," Jane answers as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

I must look dumbfounded because she rolls her eyes again and drops her crayon to give me her full attention.

"Buy her a dog. Then she'll think you're the best because everyone loves puppies."

She's an evil genius.

I could buy my wife a puppy and she'll be giving me free blowjobs and free pussy for as long as I want and then when she least expects it…POW! Her shoes will be destroyed. It's absolutely the greatest plan of all plans because it's the plan than keeps on giving. If she pisses me off again, I can have the dog pee on her Prada. God! I think I'd like having one of these smellies just so I can have someone to brainstorm with. Maybe Alice was right all along with the whole dropping hints thing. Maybe we should get one of these.

The rest of the time goes by in relative silence, the only speaking between me and Jane is the exchange of crayons. She draws four more pictures, all of which involve that Alec kid without a limb or two.

I push away from the desk when it's time for me to leave and I find that I'm a little sad to go. This Jane girl is kind of cool for something that can't wipe its own ass and I think I might actually be looking forward to coming back next week.

"Well Jane, I guess I'll see ya around," concludes the most awkward goodbye ever known to man. Because honestly, what do you say to a five year old kid? It's not like I'll call her.

"Yea, see ya," and I think she's just as sad as I am that I'm leaving. This pretty much fuckin' sucks.

I pat her head and smooth down her hair as I place my chair under the table before making my escape. I turn around just before exiting and shout out to the class.

"Which one of you rugrats is Alec?"

The teacher instantly shushes me again, but I flip her off without even looking while a little boy nervously raises his hand.

"You're stupid and your breath smells like shit. Of course girls can play with spaceships." And then I make an exit to the wonderful sound of mockery. I seriously could get used to this.

On the drive over to the high school to pick up Alice I think about what Jane said. Yea, the whole dog thing would be totally fucking great, but I don't want to be a dead man. Alice has been a bitch, but she really thinks she's doing something positive here. I mean, I know better than to fuck with my wife's clothes and today wasn't so bad. Jane was a nice enough kid and I get to see her next week. If it weren't for Alice, I probably wouldn't have a future scheming partner. I could put Jane to use for much more low key revenge plots. Together we'll think of something cool as shit.

I pull up to the curb of the high school and Alice dramatically flings herself into the car. Since she's a woman, she doesn't even have the door closed before she starts complaining.

"Oh, my GOD, Jazzy! That was, like, the worst day of my life! Those kids were…" I stop listening. I don't give a shit how her day was. She was the one that wanted to do this and she was the one that wanted to go to the high school and stick me with the snot-noses.

As I drive down the road I'm contemplating asking if she wants to join me in my kindergarten class. Maybe she'll get to sit at a table with Alec.

I smile and chuckle at the thought.

Suddenly, Alice's voice is too shrill to tune out. I think this is called "squeeing."

"I'm so glad you agree, Jazzy. I mean, what the hell was I thinking? Gah! Next time I have an idea like that, feel free to slap some sense into me," she says. I must have missed a question or something.

"What the fuck?" I ask because that is my code phrase for "The fuck is going on here, bitch?"

"Don't worry, baby. We'll find another way to help the community. Maybe we could just donate some money or foster one of the African babies via mail, or something."

What?

She really doesn't want to go back?

"You really don't want to help kids anymore?" I must be hearing things.

"Gah! Weren't you even listening to what I was saying, Jazzy? Those kids were satanic, I swear! I can't believe I thought we were ready for that kind of commitment. I mean, teenage boys were trying…" I shut her out again. I don't give a fuck what she has to say. All I hear is that I won't have to go back to the kindergarten again and as much as I should be relieved, I'm a little disappointed.

If I wasn't going to that classroom anymore, I wouldn't be seeing my accomplice anymore. And if I didn't see Jane anymore, how was I supposed to make Alice's life hell? This day was getting shitty again. I only had one option.

"Aye, Alice," I interrupted her mid tirade. "What do you think about us going down to the animal shelter and picking up a puppy?"

I was wrong before.

The ear-splitting sound I'm hearing now is officially "squeeing."

I smile and nod at Alice while she bounces in her seat and promises me countless free blowjobs the whole way down to the animal shelter.

I fist bump in my head.

There's no such thing as free head.

* * *

**Chapter Notes: **If you're unfamiliar with Chris Hansen, he works for Dateline NBC and his job is to rope in pedophiles. The show is awesome but makes me glad I don't have a daughter.

**A/N:** I just want to say thank you for all of the support y'all have show me. M:IAIS was added to so many favorites and I was added to author's favorites and it makes me so excited! I can't thank you enough. I've only had a few reviews, but they're very sweet. The awesome people whom reviewed got the original paragraph my boyfriend wrote that started all of this craziness. Also, don't forget to check out "ManFiction" by pbroken. She is incredible and has a hilarious take on a more realistic Bella and Edward.

~Tay


	4. Blueberries and Amnesia

**Author's Note: ***gasp* Could it be? Why, yes! Two updates in a week! It's like Christmas in July! Well, in November at least. I received so may favorites and alerts and tweets for the puppy business, I figured I'd give you a little something. I would love to see some reviews from you all instead of all this private message business. If you want something from me, shout it from the roof tops! If you want me add in some Edward and the Cullen gang, leave me a review and demand it! If you want me to lay off of all the curse words, well too f*cking bad because I curse a lot!

I hope you are all finding as much fun as I am in all of this. Thank you for the support.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or Mr. Pigbottom. Stephenie Meyer owns all. Except Mr. Pigbottom, he belongs to my friend Christina. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

JPOV

.

Worst.

Fucking.

Idea.

EVER!

.

I should have fucking known that buying Alice a puppy would come around and bite me in the ass.

Literally.

The little fucking shit with legs that she picked out at the animal shelter has actually bitten me on the ass. And my fingers, ankles, toes, and mouth. Yes, the mini piss machine has, in fact, had the balls to bite me on the mouth. Well, he doesn't have balls any more – something I silently take victory in knowing – but still. I hate it.

I didn't even think that something so fucking tiny could constitute as a dog. Alice picked out the smallest, ugliest little runt I've ever seen and "fell in love with him." The vet technician calls it a French Bulldog. I call it a rabbit-eared, stump-tailed fucker, but Alice calls him Mr. Pigbottom.

Mr. Fucking Pigbottom.

I guess I can see where the name comes from; it has a cropped nub for a tail, but I don't give a shit. I actually have no shit to give because the little poop machine impersonating a dog has shit enough for the both of us. He has shit so much in the two weeks since we've had him that our house smells like shit. Alice says its "new puppy smell" and that I should take him out for walks more often.

Yea, right. Like I would be caught dead rolling around the park with a rat on a leash. Think of the humiliation. The guys would give me so much shit if they ever saw me with this – this, _thing_. Could she have picked a more girly looking dog?

I was all fucking excited, thinking we'd leave with a pitbull, or a golden retriever, or a mastiff, or some other dog equally as awesome and manly. But no, we leave with a Ferby they're trying to pass off as a dog. I would have even settled for the half poodle, half mutt they had there, but Alice got all misty eyed and pouty and that bitch knows I can't resist the fucking pouting. I even pinched her, like, four times!

Fuck that! This shit sucks! And stinks! I'm taking it back!

"This thing sucks," I point to Alice's lap, indicating the thing she's currently stroking when she knows very well there's something else she should be stroking. "I'm taking it back."

"The hell you are!" And I don't think I've ever seen my wife so mad that her face is actually purple. Well, until now. But fuck that! The thing shits and pisses everywhere and isn't even cool looking! I tell her as much.

"He's just a little puppy, Jazzy. Mr. Pigbottom is bound to have accidents." And here she goes with the fucking baby talk. "Isn't tat white meester pwigbottom? Momma's widdle man needs wuves and attentions. Huh? Yes he does! Yes he does!" She even shakes her head a bit as she pouts and kisses his head and rubs his belly.

My dick is instantly disgruntled. She doesn't pout and nuzzle my cock like that. The lisp alone isn't that hot, but I'm getting more turned on by all of her baby talk. She's such a selfish bitch.

She continues to coo at the shit machine and totally ignores me and my rejected cock. I've had enough. She needs to know who runs this shit.

"Aye, Alice! Your fuckhot husband who bought you that thing in the first place has a lonely cock over here," I remind her angrily because I'm fucking angry. "And I do believe he and his cock were promised blowjobs and pussy! Bring your ass." Has she forgotten that I'm the man? That I am the king of this castle? That all of this and more has been provided to her by the awesomeness that is me?

She just sighs dramatically – because she's so fucking dramatic – and gives me the stink-eye. I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure the fleabag smirks at me. I hate that fucking thing. I'm two seconds from dumping his ass on the floor and taking back the position that _I_ should rightfully be in when Alice cuts my focus.

"Jasper, what the fuck is your problem? Don't –"

"Watch your mouth woman! Your man demands services promised." She knows better; I run this shit.

She gently places the mongrel on his plaid feathered dog bed on the floor near the end of the couch. This gives me pause. I hadn't noticed that before. In fact, now that I'm looking around, I'm starting to notice that this dog has a lot of shit lying around everywhere. And not just his normal shit-shit, but like, nice shit. Like, toys and shit, shit. And now that I'm looking at him, he seems to have on a white, brown, black, and red plaid collar. He even has a matching sweater, too. Really, a lot of his stuff has that color scheme. I'm not a girly-man, but I do have a shopaholic wife; I know those colors are significant, but I just can't place them.

I had completely tuned out Alice, so it scared the shit out of me when I realized she was standing in front of me with her hands on her hips. She's in the bitchin' stance, but I don't know what I did this time! But that doesn't even fucking matter because something's not right here.

"Aye, Alice. What do those colors stand for again?" I swear it's on the tip of my tongue. It's like a fucking trademark or something. There're like the certain colors for a certain store, but I can't remember the name.

Alice's eyes go wide and her face pales. Goddamn it! This can not be good!

"W-wh-what do you mean?" The bitch is stuttering. Oh God, I know I'm on to something now.

I narrow my eyes at her. Something's up. "The color on all the dog's shit. You know, the plaid looking stuff. What's it from?" I ask her real slow like. I feel like she has clothes and purses and shoes and socks with that same pattern on them. She better not have gotten custom shit for that ass licker. She better not have! "Does that cock gobbler have custom shit?"

Alice looks relieved, but she's the only one. "Oh, no, Jazzy-poo, I didn't do that. It's just stuff from the dog section, that's all." She immediately drops to her knees in front of me. I guess she came around. About damn time, but something's nagging me in the back of my mind. I swear I've seen that pattern before.

My cock is incased in warm, wet heaven before I can give a second thought. Alice's mouth is like magic. Her tongue is swiveling all over my dick and I can't even breathe, let alone think. She cups my balls and applies the slightest pressure.

"Oh, shit…that's it, baby," I encourage because she knows exactly what gets me harder.

My head limply rests on the back of the couch and she feels so fucking good. Alice starts a slow rhythm with barely-there suction, using her other hand to palm what she can't fit into her mouth. She's a real pro at this.

But, I swear, something just doesn't quite make sense. I feel like I'm missing something bigger here and I feel like that little nut-muncher of a dog is a big part of it.

Instantly, it comes to me.

"Blueberry?" It doesn't sound right as I say it in a whisper because Alice's ministrations on my dick are making me breathless. God, she's good. It's so warm…

Alice's speed increases and I forget what I'm thinking about again. The sounds of her suction are echoing throughout the room. And since this is our house and no one is around, I do a little fist bump action to myself. Complete with explosion.

The all too familiar burning spreads from the tips of my toes and up through my thighs before settling in the pit of my stomach. I'm so close, so fucking close I can't stand it.

"Jesus fucking – oh, Alice that is…just – so, so good…" The English language is failing me right now. My wife knows how to work me like a champ.

Before I know it the burning reignites and I'm soaring on the cloud nine of semen and it's oh so fan-fucking-tastical. I made up that word because, as I said before, the English language is failing me right now. My surroundings are hazy as shit and I can't care less.

At some point Alice must have left to walk the dog because when I'm semi-coherent again, I'm alone on the couch and the house is empty. I make my way to the fridge to snag a beer in my post coital bliss only to be stopped short. In the corner of the kitchen are matching food and water dog bowls.

And they're in that same fucking plaid pattern.

On a whim, I book it – top speed – into our bedroom and fling open Alice's closet, seeking out a sign of that now prominent pattern. I look around until I can see some plaid on the high shelf. The high shelf where she puts all of her expense shit. The expensive shit that I always make her take back to the fucking store. On a high shelf is a purse. I pull it down and read the tag.

Burberry.

Burberry, not blueberry.

Did that bitch…? I can't even complete the thought. There is no way. There is no fucking way that Alice bought that _dog_ designer clothes. Designer clothes and collars and toys and plush as fuck feather beds! Oh, hell nah! Fucking bitch was going to get it!

I don't even know whether to be pissed the fuck off that I didn't notice these past few weeks, or that that bitch totally just gave me a mind erasing blow job. I mean, I knew she was good, but I had no idea her dick sucking abilities could cause memory loss. I thought I was teaching a grasshopper only to find out I've been getting schooled by a Jedi. Fuck! I wonder how many times this has happened. Has it only been for these past two weeks, or has this shit been going on our whole marriage. Shit! Has this been going on since I met the fucking girl?

Oh, she's a slick one, that girl.

I put the purse back and sit on the couch to plot. Alice has had the upper hand too many times as of late and I need to rectify the situation as soon a possible. I don't even come up with anything by the time I hear the front door open. My anger boils over and I shout for her to bring her ass into the kitchen.

"Yes, Jazzy dearest?" She was already batting her fucking eyelashes. Bitch was going to get it.

"What the fuck?" I go in for my classic line. She knew she had done wrong. I was almost too afraid to ask how much she spent.

"What's the matter, Jasper?" One of her eyebrows is cocked as she starts to kneel in front of me and for the life of me, I can't figure out what's going on…until starts unzipping my pants. "Ish shumbody's widdle man needing sum attentions and wuves?"

Huh? Baby talking my dick?

I nod because she's staring at my junk while pouting and she's like, three inches from nuzzling it. My mind suddenly goes blank as she completely engulfs my now raging hard-on, encasing it in nearly searing wet warmth.

I feel like something isn't right here…but my thoughts quickly dissipate as slurping and groans bounce off the walls.

God, she's so good at this. So wet, so warm.

* * *

**A/N:** Do you hate me? Do you love me? Would you please, oh please, just tell me! I had to reword the end of this chapter a few times and I still feel like I couldn't convey the memory loss well enough. Alice is a sneaky witch, that one. If you haven't noticed, I like my women a little more in control than Mrs. Meyer. Even if they are all a bit h00r-ish.

Okay peeps, lay it on me.

~Tay

Ps - you can come see me on twitter shantytown005.

Also, I have an entry called '_The Befuddlement of Jasper Whitlock_' for a contest and I would love for you all to check me out as well as the other entries. It is "The Many Faces of Jasper Contest" hosted by Jaspers_Darlins. Devour the one-shots!

.net/community/The_Many_Faces_of_Jasper/85910/


	5. Beer and Bieber

**Author's Note:** Here we are again! I've actually had this in the works since about two chapters back, but i couldn't get it to wrap up the way I wanted it to. It still isn't completely to my liking, but I'm working on some side projects and didn't want to keep you all waiting too long. So, here you are: Poker night with the boys! There are a lot of 'fucks' in this chapter. Surprisingly, I erased a lot. And I erased a few hundred words and the chapter is still at 3.4K! I'm nothing if not wordy. Meet me at the bottom for some shameless begging!

**DISCLAIMER**: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight and Justin Bieber sucks ass. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

JPOV

"Ante up, bitches!" I drawl as I place three cards across my poker table. Every other Friday night my homies and I meet up for beers and shit talk. We call it Poker Night for the benefit of our wives, but tonight is one of the rare nights where we're actually partaking in the namesake.

"Okay Jazzy. I'll throw in a Truth and my Kardashian sisters' edition of Playboy."

I stifle a groan. Fucking Emmett; he always knows my weak spot. What I wouldn't give to pound into the salacious roundness that is Kim Kardashian's asshole. We never play poker the proper way, with money and chips and all those other things our wives would have our balls for if we lost. No, we essentially play truth or dare – but a totally manly and awesome version of truth or dare. One with the stakes of awesome man dares and playboys with tits and other various manly things…like tits…

Fucking right, okay! We play for tits…and pussy. Yeah, can't forget the pussy. We are men after all…

Being the dealer of this round, I have to wait for the full rotation before adding my bounty to the pot. That means that if Kardashians are already in, there is nowhere for this pot to go but up. I keep my fingers crossed and pray for a good Turn card.

"Uh… I think I'll just fold." Carlisle chuckles as he places his cards face-down on the table in front of him. His eyebrows rise as he takes a pull of his beer and continues. "You boys are a bit too rich for me. I've already lost my favorite copy of _Debbie Does Dallas _to Edward. A man my age can only take so much."

Carlisle is older than the rest of us. Mid-thirties, I think. He was the sad sack doctor that got the pleasure of treating me and my boys two weeks after a drunken night during spring break involving water balloons, tequila shots, gerbils, and Emmett. I don't remember much of the night, but I woke up surrounded by two girls with fake tits, a goat, and Emmett. Fucking Emmett; for as long as I'd known him, I should have had learned my lesson. Let's just say we were all _burned_ in our nether regions and never fucking went back to Mexico.

"It's alright, old geezer," I tease, moving the game along. "What about you Eddie-boy? You in?"

"Fuck, yes! You know I'm in," my friend Edward fucking chimes smugly because he's a fucking smug prick. Don't get me wrong, I love the fucker. It's just that he is the moodiest little bitch sometimes, I can hardly stand it. Seriously! He really thinks he is the hottest shit to ever grace the goddamned planet. And I'm not jealous or anything, I mean, I get it. He's got "fuck-me hair" and "fuck-me eyes" and "fuck-me crooked smile," but seriously, fuck me! The guy is one of the biggest pussies ever. His wife Bella, Alice's best friend, totally owns his balls. Me and the rest of the guys give him constant shit for the little stunts she's always pulling over on him.

"Fuck off, Cullen. Just ante up," I retort because I'm in no mood for him trying to build up whatever his lame ass is bringing to the pot. I'm in business mode.

Kardashians are in there. Enough said.

"Alright, alright. Calm the fuck down, Jazzy." Edward seems unfazed by my attitude, as usual. He takes a deep swallow of his beer before letting out a truly commercial worthy refreshed sigh. His eyes dart to all of our faces before looking at his cards again. Arrogant fucker.

"Come on, Eduardo! Carlisle's getting older over here!" Emmett huffs in obvious irritation.

Yeah, I'm glad I'm not the only one.

Carlisle just chuckles it up as he always does. He may be ten years our senior, but he never seems to get tired of us. He says our shenanigans are "constant entertainment."

Edward just gives Emmett his signature girly stink-eye which really only looks like a cross between a scowl and a pout. He looks even more like a pussy. I really don't even know why we've hung out with him all these years; he's such a moody little bitch.

He finally says, "I'll throw in Truth and a copy of _Throbbin' Hood: Prince of Beaves_," and the fucker has the nerve to look excited about it!

"Oh, come the fuck on, Cullen!" Emmett bellows as I groan and Carlisle stifles another fucking chuckle, almost choking on his beer. "No one wants to watch your PG-13, soft core bullshit!" he continues.

I agree and Edward looks at us like we're insane.

"What? It's got a pretty accurate story line," he defends. And because we're gaping at him like he's a total fucking moron – because he is – he adds under his breath, "and the acting's pretty good, too," like it fucking matters.

Emmett looks completely gob smacked, but I just shake my head and avert my eyes. No one watches porn for an "accurate story line" or "good acting."

…sometimes, I really wonder about that boy…

But this isn't time for games. Whether Edward's bitch-porn is in the pot or not, the Kardashians are calling my name and I will not be satisfied until I'm whacking it to all their beautiful backsides. I don't want to sweeten the pot too much so I place a stupid bet.

"Okay, I'm going with a Truth and my copy of Glad-He-Ate-Her." I hold back the fact that it's got four extra hours of Bone-us features; I don't want Emmett to get his girls back.

They will be mine.

No one raises the stakes for the Turn and Carlisle grabs us another round of beers as I place the River card down on the table. The last card is a king and I'm feeling like one knowing that I've got two more in my hand. There's no way Emmett or Edward is going to beat out triple kings, especially since there's already an ace on the table. I can practically taste caramel-skinned, plump-assed victory.

"An ace _and_ a king on the table?" Emmett asks in disbelief. "I fucking fold dude," he continues, grudgingly tossing his cards face down and finishing his beer in one tip. He grumbles some more, but I tune him out. Pussy Edward is all I have left and the Kardashians are mine.

I let my poker face fall and break out into my victory dance. I'm a country-ass white boy so I'm sure I look like an idiot, but everyone can kiss my ass because I'm the motherfuckin' winner in this shit and no body wins in _my house_ but _me_! Hell's yea mother fuckers!

Edward's arrogant tone instantly deflates my bubble of win.

"Sit the fuck down Jazzy! I do believe I want to raise you."

Carlisle's still chuckling it the fuck up and I can see Emmett grumbling something in his drink. I'm not totally sure what he says, but it sounds suspiciously like, "…fuckin' dead man…" If he's talking about Edward, he's fucking right.

"What the hell you want, Edward?" I question irately. I just want to get my girls and kick these assholes out of my house so I can jack it before Alice gets home. I don't even care that these fuckers owe me a Truth.

"I'll raise you something special if you can sweeten the pot a little bit," Edward smiles slyly.

I know he's up to something – I can read that fucker like a book – but there're two must-know things about us Whitlock's:

Firstly, we're a bettin' people.

Secondly…We. Do. Not. Lose! Ever!

And I most certainly am not going to back down and lose to pussy-boy Edward!

"Tell me what's so special and I'll think about it?" I retort because there's no way I want his special copy of _House of 1000 Horsecocks_. He says its Bella's….

Right...like I believe that shit for a second.

Edward smiles that smug fucking smile and it makes me think that he's had something good up his fucking sleeve all goddamn night and he was just drawing this shit out to throw it in my face. Emmett and Carlisle look like they're thinking the same fucking thing because they both get quite and lean forward.

Edward clears his throat and looks around as if there's going to be a fucking drumroll. Phst, please. He's such a fucking drama queen. I swear I have no clue why we hang out with the fucker. He's like the biggest douche bag I know and I know for sure that he's danced at a gay club before. I swear I've seen a leopard print thong and some pictures in his dresser when I was looking for swim trunks last summer. Either that or Bella's into some kinky shit. She doesn't seem the type. But then again, what do I know? Alice looks like a sweet, innocent, vestal virgin-type nun when she's actually a shopaholic spawn of satanic manipulation in disguise. Who am I to judge?

My rambling thoughts are cut short when Edward leaves the table and heads to the corner of the room where he stashed his messenger bag…

See?

Douche bag.

But he quickly returns with something behind his back. I'm seriously tired of all his dramatics and sigh deeply before taking a long pull of my beer. I end up draining it as he sits down, still without saying a word. Emmett even gets up and gets us another round of beer before Edward even attempts to speak.

I'm like, two second away from just punching him in the face and telling him to fuck off – so that I can continue my awesome victory dance – when he finally decides the suspension is too much. He clears his throat pointedly and stares me straight in the eyes while placing something on the table. My breathing catches. My eyes glaze over before they roll into the back of my skull and I swear to God I'm feeling faint.

It can't be.

But of course it is. I just haven't the slightest clue what fuckward Edward is doing with it.

"Is that," I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, but somehow my voice still comes out a little breathy when I continue, "…is that Kim?"

I can't take my eyes off of the small stack of photos Edward careless tosses on the table. My hand shakes as I reach out to try to touch one to make sure they're real, but at the same time I'm terrified I'll ruin them somehow so my hand is suspended half way across the table, mid-air.

Emmett's and Carlisle's jaws are just as slacked as mine and I think I hear Carlisle berating himself for folding his hand so soon. Even Emmett seems to be making a strange high-pitched wheezing and I know he's just as pissed.

Edward – for all the build up of disclosing these gems of titillation – looks the epitome of cool and bored. He even crosses his arms over his chest after taking a long swig of his beer, looking off to the side as if the heavens hadn't just descended upon my poker table.

"Yea," He replies coolly before taking another drink and continuing. "Bella's friend Jake owns that gay bar downtown and one of his regular customers is some hot-shot photographer. He, um, I–," Edward seems to be sputtering for an explanation, but I can't think too much into it because at this distance from the pictures, I'm pretty sure Kim Kardashian is in a bikini. And is she…blonde?

"I was, uh, helping Jake, um…, with some maintenance at his club and, yea…, the guy saw me there a few times and knew I wasn't gay, or whatever, and since Jake and Bella made me danc– dapple in a little bartending… yea, bartending, he, um…, gave me them. Anyway…" Edward is making no sense at all, but fuck him. Kim's in the room.

Actually, I take that back. I think I love him. I think he's my new best friend and maybe I've been too hard on this boy all along.

Edward Masen is my new hero.

I think I feel a tear slip down my cheek as I gaze lovingly at pictures of my girl and contemplate if what I feel inside is the equivalent to world peace. If this is world peace, I can see why all those made-up whores want it so damn bad. It feels so right.

"So, what are you throwing in?" Edward asks me, but I don't even hear him and I don't move until I see Edward's hand make to pull the pictures away. I instantly see red.

"What the fuck, man? Give her back!"

"Dude," Edward starts cautiously, as if he's backing away from a feral panther. He better be afraid; I'm pretty sure I'm growling. "Sweeten the deal, show your hand, and maybe Kim will be all yours."

"'Maybe?' 'Maybe' my ass! My hand is the shit, there's no way your going to be beat it," I state confidently, not even making eye contact with him. I'm too busy scanning the other pictures peeking through the stack. Kim on a treadmill in a formal dress and heels, I hum to myself. Wait, is that that Bieber kid?

"Is that Bieber?" I exclaim lividly. That fucking kid is like eight years old and he's in a photo shoot with my woman!

Everyone seems surprised at my outburst and they all gasp like pussies. I'm too riled up to listen and I frantically launch myself across the table and start gently figuring through the photos. Yes, it sure as shit IS that Bieber kid! And there're pictures of them on a beach too! Fucker!

"Now, calm down there, Jazzy. It's just Ki…" Emmett starts to say, but Carlisle silences him with a look. He better shut the hell up. If he was going to say 'It's just Kim' I would have chopped his balls off for blasphemy.

Everything around me seems to fade away and I'm pretty sure My-New-Hero-ward is trying to reengage me in the game, but I don't have time for any of it. The fuck-awesomeness that is Kim Kardashian is slowly taking over my brain and I'm about four point two seconds from whipping my dick out and stroking it to her beautiful face. Present company be damned. Edward would probably enjoy the show.

Wait, no!

I like him now. He has blessed my home with exclusive photos of Kim, and for that, I must show him my appreciation. I'm getting a little misty eyed, but I try to hold the tears back a bit.

I look up at Edward and whisper a reverant, "Thank You," before focusing my attention back on my goddess. If I just hover my thumb…just a little bit to the top left…yea, just like that. Now that Bieber child is completely covered and me and Kim can have a moment alone.

"Dude," I heard a cloudy, half non-existent version of Emmett voice from my personal heaven – me still sprawled out on top of my poker table with the pictures secured in my clutches. "I think he's lost it," he continues.

Well fuck him! Fuck all of them! These fuckers are encroaching on my wanking time and they can all go fuck themselves. Except Edward. He is a lovely young fellow and is welcome back at any time.

There's the briefest of scuffles as what I assume is Awesome-ward trying to get the other two buffoons away from me so that Kim and I can finally get to know each other better. I sigh dreamily and clamber down from the poker table and turn towards my bathroom with a smile on my face and a fantasy in my head. Someone calls my name and I ignore it a few times as I already start stroking my manhood through my jeans. Kim is the sexiest of sex gods and I can't believe she dyed her hair blonde for this photo shoot! Gah! She's so incredible!

"Give them back, Ass-per!" snaps me back to reality. I look over my shoulder to see that Emmett has My-Super-Awesome-Brand-New-Best-Friend-ward in a headlock. This can't be right. He looks like he's trying to attack me, but the lame-o, formally known as my best friend Emmett, is holding him back. Carlisle is chuckling from the poker table.

What the fuck's so funny?

All hell seems to break loose in seconds as suddenly our wives come bursting through the door, obviously laughing and giggling about something from their night out on the town. Alice's clutches are full of shopping bags, but I can't find it in me to care. Kim brings out the angel in me.

The wives take in the scene before them: Emmett with Totally-Cool-and-Not-At-All-A-Whiny-Little-Bitch-Because-He's-Fucking-Legend-For-This-Shit-ward in a headlock, Carlisle chuckling, leaning against a poker table full of porn, and me, in route to the bathroom with one hand on my dick and the other clutching Kim like she's the Pope's blessing.

This can't be good.

Immediately, Emmett's wife Rosalie smacks him in the back of the head. I stifle a laugh. He needs to learn how to control his woman. Bella, Edward's wife, walks over in a near panic and is coddling him like he was actually going to die at the hands of Emmett. If he wasn't my super, awesome new best friend, I'd totally call him a pussy.

Alice just looks at me.

This can't be good.

"Whatcha got there, Jasper?" she asks me all sweet and sickly like. Edward interrupts me before I can even open my mouth.

"We were playing poker for porn and he's trying to steal my Kim pictures!"

I _knew_ he was a little bitch! That's fucking it! New friendship terminated! And what was with all this "stealing" bullshit!

"Kim is mine fucker! Three kings, Ace high. Check the cards, pansy ass." I'm livid, but one look at Kim reminds me to keep my cool. _Soon, my love_.

Edward looks defeated and gets all whiny with his wife. Fucker has 'til the count of three to get out of my house. I seriously don't know why I even talk to him. Carlisle and his wife Esme are just giggling it up like little school girls. Maybe the good doctor is on some drugs. I need to keep an eye on him…

I look over at Alice. She's expressionless. Well maybe she has an expression, but I just want everyone to get the fuck out so I can get down to business; I have a date with some lotion and Rush. Yea, I like to beat off to the awesomeness that is classic rock.

Alice gives me a knowing smirk and addresses the group. "Alright guys, I'm pretty sure we've had enough – ahem – _excitement_ for one night." Esme and Rosalie look away at this and Bella blushes the color of a tomato. Something went on while they were out. I can sense that shit. I narrow my eyes at Alice's back as she shoos everyone out.

What's she playing at?

"What you playing at?" I'm suspicious as fuck. Bitch isn't getting on over on me.

She gets the doe eyes and the pout. Fuck! "It's nothing, Jazzy. Promise," she says in that voice that gets her whatever she wants. Shit! Fuck that! I'm fucking pinching her!

"Owe! Why, baby?" She asks rubbing at her arm while actually looking kind of sad. Shit! She totally just did me a favor and I'm acting like an ass. I guess I should make it up to her…

But I'm in a hurry. Kim needs attention too.

I give her a quick peck on the cheek as a silent 'Thank you' for getting everyone out of the house and make my way to the bathroom. As an afterthought, before closing the bathroom door, I tell her I love her because I do.

…And I know that maybe it'll get me some ass later if I can get it up after all the dick spanking I'm about to do.

Alice's night out with the girls is the furthest thing from my mind as I spank myself into oblivion with my brand new Kim pictures, my thumb hovering over the top left corner.

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**A/N:** Are y'all tired? I know I am. This was too many words for such a silly little story. I hope you enjoyed it though. I am one of those people that laughs at their own jokes and I was cracking myself up. Mostly because I hate Bieber. It's totally not his fault though; he's just so young and so famous and everyone loves him. Well, he gets no love from me! If I could, I'd pinch him. Oh, and just so you know, I have no preference for Kim Kardashian either, she was just a placeholder. Insert whatever faceless, generic, "getting famous from a sex tape" person you want! =)

Now, on to shameless begging! PLEASE LEAVE ME A REVIEW! *pout* That's all I got, really. Maybe a threat? Leave me a review or I'll pinch you! Nah, leave all loves and flames! Until next time...

~Tay

P.s - I totally started a blog. It's fail right now, but I'm working on it. Check it out, ya know, if you want.

www(dot)forthereluctantreader(dot)blogspot(dot)com


	6. APOV OUTTAKE: Back Pats and Margaritas

**Author's Note: I don't know how I feel about this outtake, but it's been a long time coming and I feel like I want everyone who alerted this series to know that this really is always on my mind. This is an outtake from Alice's POV about what "ahem- excitement" took place while she and the wives were out and the boys were playing poker.  
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**Big thanks to _CharliDenae_ for rec'ing and reviewing this series over at thewriterscoffeeshop(dot)com/news(dot)php?readmore=565 (and yes, that question mark is supposed to be there).**

**~Tay**

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and everything encompassed by it. No infringement is intended.  
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**APOV  
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It's got to be that I'm in shock, or something. No, I must be like, ridiculously drunk. Like, super beyond shitfaced wasted. I have to be Sheen-faced to be witnessing what I am right now. Bella -little, quiet, blushing Bella- is up near the center of the room acting like a goddamn fool.

"Oh, hells yeah! Break me off a piece of that!" Bella hoots as a dancer gyrates in front of her. She is so friggin' embarrassing right now! I shouldn't have let her drink so much. Dang it!

I look over just as she smacks the stripper's ass and stuffs a five in his g-string, all the while rubbing over his thigh with her free hand. Groaning, I shake my head. I should have known a girls' night would get hella crazy.

"Bella!" I try to whisper-yell to her over the pulsating dance music. "You know you're not supposed to be touching!"

There are strobe light and lasers everywhere. It's hard to really see what's going on in here.

That's the excuse I'm giving myself anyway because there's no way I just saw what I saw. Like, my eyes have to be deceiving me because it _looks_ like Bella gave me the finger. It's got to be a play of the lighting and the effects of the alcohol I've consumed because there is _no_ way that she did that. That she just gave me the finger without even breaking her trance from the stripper's rolling hips.

That little bitch gave _me_ the finger!

I must look like I'm about to snatch her hair out because the next thing I know Esme's passing me another margarita, effectively trapping me into the booth. I shoot Bella a glare and give the back of her bobbing head a double handed, single finger salute as I sip. I deserve a pat on the back for not going Jerry Springer on her ass.

"You young girls are so wild!" Esme huffs as if she's out of breath. She even fans herself like a southern belle. She's a beautiful woman -all dark caramel hair, hazel eyes, and flawless skin- although somewhat older than the rest of us. I'm not sure why the boys became friends with her husband, with the age gap and all. All I know is that a few years back the boys came home from spring break in Mexico and Carlisle was their new best friend. Oh, and I know that Jasper developed a sudden fear of goats. But he's just a weirdo.

I just smirk at Esme. She's trying to act all innocent on us, but I've seen Carlisle and I've heard some horror stories from Jasper. There's no way she and that husband of hers don't get into some freaky stuff.

I know I would. That doctor is tasty!

Instead of calling her out, I cut eyes to an utterly bored looking Rosalie. She's sitting across from me at the booth, which means she's not even facing the man-meat stage. She's such a conceited little bitch with her long, Amazonian looks, vibrant blue eyes, luxuriously voluminous hair, and killer attitude. She's probably brooding because everyone's looking at all the sausage dangling around instead of at her. I'm not saying that because I'm an envious harpy that believes people should keep their friends close and their enemies closer either. I would never dream of keeping her close just for the sake of saying that I have hot friends and it ultimately makes me look more awesome and gets me invited to more parties because people want me to invite my beautiful friends along as well...

No. Not at all, actually. It's because she's funny...

Well, she is most of the time, when she's not being a stuck up bitch or checking herself out in the mirror, or sizing up your friends, or scooping out your man or...or... Actually, sometimes I really wonder why we are friends. It kind of makes me feel bad.

"We can leave whenever you want Rose. We've-" I'm cut off by the sound of Bella whooping and throwing more cash on stage. It takes super human strength not to roll my eyes. Too bad I'm simply a mere mortal. "That is, if we ever get Rain Woman out of here."

Rose scoffs with me, flicking her hair over her shoulder to watch Bella attempt to climb the stage as a bouncer asks her to quiet down. Gosh! She's so goddamn crazy!

Esme taps my hand to get my attention. "Rain Woman?"

"Yeah," I answer as I sip more delicious margarita. "That bitch has been making it rain on that same dancer since we got here." I look down at my watch. Yep, just as I suspected. "We left Sax at four and left the restaurant three hours ago! She's got to be dipping into her and Edward's mortgage payment by now." Rose nods somberly to confirm.

I mean, don't get me wrong; I love -like, super fucking love- to spend money, especially if it isn't mine. But we've been shopping all day. We've hit up Macy's, Marc Jacobs, Sax Fifth, the BurBerry store -Mister Pigbottom needed a new cardigan- all before going to a four star restaurant for a light liquid heavy dinner.

Light on the dinner, heavy on the liquid.

I know I've spent well over what Jazzy would find acceptable, but Bella said we just _had_ to come to the male strip club. I mean, I know her gay friend owns it and all, but it's not like he's supplying us the money to throw at his dancers. We just received free entry and free drinks, that's all.

Speaking of free drinks...

I remember that I'm doing a lot of nursing on my margarita and start guzzling that down. One of us needs to think of a plan to get Ol' Drunky McMoneybags home. The boys should be done with their poker party soon and I know Jasper will want something to eat. If he's not passed out by now, that is. I hope he remembered to take Mister Pigbottom out for a walk.

Most nights after the boys play poker he's exhausted and forgets about my widdle schweet'ems of a cutie-patutie pie. I guess it's all the shit talking and beer drinking that drains him. Jasper can be so cute, all passed out in a little ball in the middle of the bed with Mister Pigbottom sleeping along his back. Jasper hates when the dog's on the bed, but I never move him. I know Jasper thinks I'm always trying his patience on purpose, but in reality he just looks so goddamn cute when he's pissed. His brow gets all scrunchy over his blue eyes and his face pinks just a little bit. Then, when Jasper's really pissed, his teeth clench and his jaw gets to working and...hmmm fucking tasty.

I'm brought out of my impromptu fantasy by the worst fucking sound known to mankind.

"Shake that ass! But watchya-self! Shake that ass! Show me whatcha workin' wit!"

Bella.

I close my eyes and try to find my center and realign my chi. I cannot - CAN. NOT!- believe this bitch is rapping. We need to get the fuck out of here. She needs to leave, like now. Nothing good will come of this, I can just sense it.

Taking a deep breath, I look up at my reinforcements. They look horror struck. I know girls, I know. Makes me want to shake my head in shame. I need to rally my troops.

Clapping my hands to get their attention, I start with the orders. "Alright, bitches. Operation: Extract Tiger's Blood is underway. Rose, you get her around the shoulders. Esme, the waist. I'm going for the purse, then the legs. We'll have to carry her out kicking and screaming -I don't give a damn!" My plan's simple, direct, and foolproof. It makes me want to give myself a pat on the back.

I glance over at Bella again. She's rummaging through her purse; looking for her credit card, no doubt. "Come on, we need to make this quick," I say as I start to stand.

Esme stops me by clearing her throat. "Um, Operation: Extract Tiger's Blood?"

Rosalie answers for me, standing and jerking her thumb over her shoulder towards Bella. "Yeah, 'cause we need to get her crazy, Charlie Sheen ass out of here, a-sap."

Esme still looks lost, but we don't have time for YouTube video explanations.

We've got a Swan to catch.

We all get up and break fast, splitting up so that we can circle Bella on all sides. With her solely focused on the hypnotic moves of the greased down, muscled up hottie on stage, we easily flank her. Esme's surprisingly strong and is able to yank Bella back by the waist just before the drunkard can hand off a hundred dollar bill to the stripper...with her teeth. Rose only takes one purse whip to the head before she's got Bella's arms locked down. I snatch her purse from her clutches and lace my entire little body around her legs.

"No! Please no! Lemme go!" Bella starts screeching and wriggling as if we're about to kidnap her. Gah! Melodramatic much? Jeez, we're just trying to save her from bankruptcy.

"Listen, pipsqueak," Oh shit! Rosalie is not happy; must have been the hit to the head. Even though the bitch probably deserved it for something she's done or will do in the near future.

I swear I'm not a frienemy! Honest!

"We're taking you out of here. Right. The fuck. Now." Yeah, fuck that shit. I don't think I've ever seen Rose this pissed. So glad we're on the same team.

Needless to say arguing ensues. We're all talking over ourselves and Esme's just chuckling and commenting about how vibrant young folks are. No one loosens their grip though.

"You alright there, big spender?"

All four of us whip our heads to the sexy voice interrupting our mission. I think I got whiplash, but I'm not sure. All I know is that I heard sexy. I can smell it too, and it smells damn good. There's a tall, blond, tanned, scruffy-haired, eight-packed, blue eyes hottie talking to us. He sounds Australian. My sexy senses have never stirred me wrong and hell yeah, am I right!

"You ladies can't leave before getting your special treat."

We whip our heads to the other direction. More sexy. This one's a mocha skinned hottie with short, dark curly hair and even darker eyes. They scream sexy mystery. He's only got a sex-er...um, _six_ pack, but he has those well defined muscles on his hips that make the bottom of his stomach look like a 'V'. You know, so it looks like a delicious arrow pointing to the promised land.

Shit! We're surrounded. I knew this couldn't be good, I just knew!

I'm almost hypnotized by all the sexy around us. I mean, even as the guys are just standing there silently, their hips are rolling and twisting to the beat around the club. It's like their bodies are synched with the music. It makes me want to throw money at them. My hands twitch towards Bella's purse. Mine's too far and I can't tear my eyes away to look for it.

Rose's voice snaps me to reality. "Listen here, Thor. We've got things to do. So step aside please." It's definitely not a polite request and I think Rose's teeth are grinding. Maybe she's still pissed. Maybe she's trying to fight the stripper hypnotism. I know I am.

"Aw, come on beauties," Australian Sexy whines. "You can't go now."

"Yeah," agrees Dark Delicious Sexy. "We've got a group lap dance to give in the private room." I think my eyebrows rise into my hairline. Wha...? Who? How? I'm sure the private rooms cost an arm and a leg! Maybe even a left tit too.

"Compliments of the boss-man," Australian Sexy interjects my rambling. Oh, maybe I said that shit out loud. I wonder if I'm drooling too.

DDS saunters up and wipes my chin with a wink. Shit! "No worries, lovely. Come back with us."

And we do. Why? I don't really remember, exactly. I don't even really remember what happened back there. The only thing I seem to remember is stunned silence. And no touching; No. Touching! That fucking rule is excruciating. I hate it.

Oh! And I remember Bella maxing out Edward's credit card. It's okay though, because Esme let her borrow some money. Well, until Carlisle's card was maxed out too. Silly girls. I don't know how they plan to explain that one.

I snicker at the thought as me and the girls make our way back home. It's late and we're in my car, giggling and reminiscing about our crazy encounters. The car swerves a bit as I laugh at Esme's excitement over our wild night. It's not that I'm too drunk to drive, I think it's more because I'm too buzzed. Stripper buzzed. Sexy buzzed.

Broke buzzed.

That thought sobers me.

"We can't say a word," I state evenly as I stare straight through the windshield, trying to find answers out in the night.

They quiet immediately. I don't need to look at them to know that they agree. We'd be so fucked.

"I'll call you guys in a few days, after I think of a reason why all that money's gone." I rub a hand down my face, careful not to muss my make-up.

"I'll think of something," I promise again as I pull up to the front drive of my home. We pull our numerous bags from the trunk and all groan and grimace as we realize we're totally fucked. There's no way to hide all this money we spent. Jazz is going to kill me, fucking strangle me.

Looking at the faces of my friends as we pause on the front porch, I start to feel all misty eyed. I'm really afraid to go in there. Jasper always knows when I'm up to something. He'll sense it, and we'll all going to get killed by our husbands. This is a terrible day!

"You know I love you guys, right?" I choke out. "And no matter what happens, you'll always be my best friends. Forever." I take a deep breath, trying to contain my emotions. "Even you, Rosalie." I feel like I should have a lawyer present for my last will and testament.

Rose rolls her eyes and pushes towards the door. "Oh, fuck off, bitch. We all know you guys only like me 'cause I'm pretty." The bitch even fluffs her hair and plumps her boobs.

I don't even know what to say. The bitch called me out. And here I was thinking I was all sly, and shit.

Esme chuckles. "Touché."

I can't help it, I burst into laughter. We all do. Rosalie even begrudgingly joins after grumbling, "Goddamn frienemies," under her breath. She's got that right!

We try to compose ourselves as I open the front door.

The first thing I see is that my dinning room table is covered in beer bottles, playing cards, and porn.

Not surprising, so I move on.

Next I see a red faced Edward in Emmett's meaty arms.

Still not surprising.

A chuckle from Carlisle catches my attention and I look him over really quickly. He looks good, as usual. He doesn't seem to have anything wrong with him so I look towards my husband. I exhale out of my nose and try my damnedest not to shake my head in shame. He has one hand clutching some pictures -I assume they're porn-and has his dick in his other hand.

Rose stomps into action and gets Emmett to let Edward go as Bella tries to sooth her husband and find out if he's alright. I just raise an eyebrow at Jasper. I want to know what the fuck's up.

"Whatcha got there, Jasper?" I use my best 'I swear I'm not mad, but you better not fuck with me if you know what's good for you' voice. Works every time.

Edward says Jazzy stole his pictures, but after Jasper spouts off some poker lingo, it looks like it's all settled. I don't really understand anything except that I hear that cunt's name. Kim: as in Kim Kardashian. I could kill Jasper for his obsession with that bimbo. I don't look anything like her for Christ's sake.

It hits me like a bolt. I could use this. I could blackmail the fuck out of Jasper, guilt his ass into not caring about the money we spent. Hell, with all the porn that's still left on the poker table, I'm sure I'd have enough ammo to share with the rest of the ladies too. Damn, I'm a genius. I have the overwhelming urge to pat myself on the back.

Instead, I get everyone to leave, sharing discreet winks and smiles with my girls so that they know I'll have it all taken care of. Oh, yes. We will live to see another day!

"What you playing at?" Jasper asks suspiciously from behind me. I reign in my smile before turning to him.

I use my best puppy face -pout and all. "It's nothing, Jazzy. Promise." I make sure my eyes look extra innocent. He doesn't look like he's going to buy it, and then pinches me! It doesn't even hurt, but I complain anyway. "Owe! Why, baby?"

Ha! That gets him! He feels bad enough to kiss me before dashing off. I even hear him call a lame-assed 'I love you' before he shuts the bathroom door. And for a split second, it kind of makes me feel bad knowing that I'm manipulating him. I love my sweet Jazzy. He's my everything, the love of my life.

Then I think of the gross-out, nasty, pervy boy stuff he's doing in that bathroom and I think better of myself.

I even give myself that pat on the back I've earned all night.

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**AN: So, I hope I didn't disappoint the original readers, as well as the new ones. Like I said before, it was weird writing this. I don't do female POV often because I think like a boy. Lol! Leave a reivew to let me know you stopped by. All love and flames are totally acceptable.**

**~Tay**


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